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Today was an interesting day, food wise. 

The day started off with a phone call. My ringtone, the BBC Sherlock intro, pulled me to consciousness, that and the buzzing that accompanied it. Who the hell would be calling me…? Oh. Joshua. Groggy with sleep, I answered. He asked if I had been sleeping. Well of course… what else was I doing, eh? I mean, it was only 7 am on a Sunday. Once we’d gotten off the phone and I told him I’d be ready to leave in 2 shakes of a lambs rear quarters, I went and got a shower. We’d hit Dunkin Donuts, swing by Starbucks and then come home. Beyond that, who knew what we would do. Like I said, I wasn’t in the mood to cook this morning.

A short while later, dressed and still groggy, Josh and I found ourselves waiting in line in Dunkin Donuts. An older lady yelled across the dining area while she ate a breakfast sandwich and sipped… tea, maybe? She was yelling to an elderly couple who were dining across the area from her. It was at this point that I kind of wished we’d hit Starbucks first and then hit the Dunkin. Josh and I ordered essentially the same thing: Steak, Egg & Cheese. Mine was on a toasted (more like burnt and incredibly flaky) croissant, Josh got his on a whole wheat, unseeded, toasted bagel. To make it a “full” breakfast, we got hash browns too.

Digressing a moment, I’ve had my fair share of breakfast sandwiches. Mum’s made some wicked ones that she would send Sydney and I to school with; the deli down the street where I work has a huge sausage, egg and cheese that is PERFECT on a croissant; and I have ordered many a breakfast sandwich from Dunkin.

Digression aside- once we had our breakfast in hand, Josh and I drove down the street to the Starbucks that we’ve both come to frequent a lot of late. He enjoys his Double Java Chip Frap. with 2 shots of espresso; Depending on my mood, I’ll sometimes take my Café Mocha skinny and with 2 extra shots of espresso, no whipped cream. Today, I just rattled off the first thing my sleep addled brain could think of: One venti Café Mocha, whipped cream please and thank you. Between the time Josh and I first walked in and the time we left, 10 minutes had elapsed. This would be due in part because there was a new guy working the till and he was just messing everything up. My sleep addled brain merely couldn’t repeat everything I’d said the first time, imagine if I’d gone with the skinny mocha, extra espresso? It might have ended in a problematic manner. While we waited for our drinks, I leaned on Josh, tired and caffeine deprived, looking at people. We could have sat at the bar, but we didn’t and tired as I felt, I had no qualms leaning on him while my coffee was made. It gave me a chance to ignore my achy, sleep deprived limbs and people watch. By the time Josh handed me my piping hot drink and ushered me towards the door, I was more than grateful and it was all I could do to remember to blow profusely on my drink before wanting to take a large sip of it. Once back in the car, I cradled my drink in my lap and leaned back against the seat, letting him drive.

With a jangle of keys in the door, shoes being kicked off, and the rustle of the paper bag our breakfast was in, we made it down to his room, making sure not to wake anyone in the process. The TV was flicked on, some sports cast was blaring through the speakers obtrusively. Instinctively, Josh changed the channel to the Food Network while I settled in to grab pictures of breakfast. We ate in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather relaxed, 2 people enjoying a well earned breakfast and their coffees.

I won’t lie to you, the caffeine and food did nothing for either of us. We were so tired that as soon as we’d eaten and thrown the remnants away, we dozed off. We had to have, because some while later, I came to and heard a vacuum running in the hall, there was stomping up in the kitchen. Warily, I eyed the clock. 11:30. I hopped on the computer, posted the pictures from breakfast, Josh handed me my coffee. Gosh, it was absolutely awful. No wonder it’s best served scalding hot. While on my endeavour to get a tall glass of water to rinse away the god awful taste, I was stopped dead in my tracks up the stairs by a mouthwatering aroma. I didn’t know what it was, but I followed my nose and found a bubbling crock pot on the counter, full of what could only be chicken, slow cooking. Delicious. I could only imagine how it would taste later with rice (my favourite side with chicken)…

The afternoon from that point seemed to drift by. My good mate, Leif messaged me concerning what he should do for lunch. It being nearly 4 (and we nearly doing an incredibly early dinner) here, it was only quarter to one where he was at. As always, going with something I’d like to eat, I suggested pizza. He promised pics and while I went to nosh “dinner”, Leif went to lunch. I came home to find these waiting in my inbox (much to my eternal gratitude)

Side Caesar salad. Those are the best, yum.

What goes better with salad and pizza? Wine.

Cabernet Sauvignon (never had it before)

And of course, the pizza. A three cheese pizza with chicken and olives. Hold the olives.

I kind of want a slice of that.

I wish I’d gotten a picture of what I ended up having for dinner. It was a simply phenomenal. Slow cooked chicken with “Puerto Rican” rice and salad. Josh’s dad is pretty cool about making the rice whenever I’m over the house. There was a period of time, back when Josh and I first started dating that his parents would never cook if I was over the house. They thought I was too picky to try anything new over there. Shoot, when I found that out, I encouraged them. Needless to say, Rice and beans with chicken? It became one of my favourite meals. Tonight was no different, the chicken fell off the bone and the juices seeped into the rice making it all the better.

With dinner done, Josh and I put on “Office Space”. I’d never seen it all the way through before, and found it to be quite amusing. Josh fell asleep however. By the time the movie was over, we were ready to leave. The day felt so dreary, and for apparent good reason. It’d been raining, pouring even, and we’d never known. But just as the day started with fog and cold air tickling my nose, it was only appropriate that I come home in the rain. The house smelled of cooking dinner. Mum had made risotto again (she still can’t touch my recipe). Needless to say, even now, hours after garnering inspiration (by watching BBC Sherlock) to write, the house still smells of the garlic and onions. I’ll sleep easy tonight, I think.

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